The Final Hours
by HopefulHeir
Summary: Dave and Karkat's last leisurely stroll around the meteor becomes a bit more emotionally charged than intended.


_T-minus six hours in counting._

Even in the strange void of space, you've always been attuned to the passing of time. You've always known how long you'd been traveling, and how long you had until you reached your destination. You don't know why you knew, but you always knew. Like a timer ticking in the back of your mind, driving you fucking insane.

 _T-minus five hours and fifty-eight minutes in counting._

You can't help but feel like it's a countdown to the beginning of the end, dramatic as it sounds. Like as soon as you get there and shit goes down, you're all just gonna die. And as psyched as you are to see John and Jade again, you're not nearly as psyched about possibly dying. You thought you'd come to terms with the idea of doomed timelines – that sometimes, you just can't do anything to avoid the inevitability of your death. But the closer you get to the new session, the more you want to find a way to knock this meteor off-course.

 _T-minus five hours and fifty-five minutes in counting._

The feeling of a hand grasping yours brings you back to reality. You glance down at the troll walking next to you, ready to give him an encouraging smile to ease his nerves. But he's not looking at you right now. His eyes are downcast, and he's blindly following you through the hallways. You link your fingers between his and give his hand a small squeeze. "You okay?"

Karkat looks at your hands before meeting your gaze. "Are you?"

You scoff and smirk at him. "That's not what I asked."

 _T-minus five hours and fifty-two minutes in counting._

He shakes his head and stops walking suddenly, still holding tightly to your hand. You stop as well and turn to look at him. He can't seem to decide whether he wants to look at you or not; he keeps making eye contact for a moment and then looking away again. "I just…" He sighs deeply and seems to deflate a bit, shoulders slumping and head tilting toward the floor.

"Nervous?" You nod understandingly. "Yeah. Me too." You rub the back of your neck awkwardly with your free hand. "I mean, like, who the fuck knows what's waitin' for us when we get there? Vriska said there's gonna be one hell of a goddamn fight to wait for, but none of us have actually done any fuckin' fighting since we got on this goddamn meteor? And like, even with what Vriska's planning for, who knows what's in the other session waitin' on us? And what'll we do if John and Jade somehow got fucked up and don't make it? What if-"

He clings to you so suddenly that it knocks what's left of your air out of your lungs. "Shut the fuck up," he mumbles into your chest, voice muffled even more by your shirt. "Just stop. I don't… want to think about that…" The arms around you tighten slightly.

You realize just how much of your own thoughts you just dumped on him. Fucking hell, you hadn't meant to do that. You wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, placing a light kiss onto the top of his head. "I'm sorry," you murmur, placing more kisses all around his head. "It's just kinda been on my mind."

 _T-minus five hours and forty-six minute-_

"I just don't want to think about losing you."

Your thoughts skid to a stop for a moment. "What? You won't-"

"You don't know that." Fucking hell. He's crying. You can feel the tears through your shirt, and the way his shoulders just shook with the force of his sob nearly tears your heart out of your chest. "There's going to be a ridiculous fight as soon as we get there, and you're enough of an idiot to do some stupidly fucking heroic thing and get yourself killed and I'll never see you again, and-"

You pet his head a few times, running your fingers through his hair the way you know he likes. "Shhhh, no," you say quietly. "Stop that. Rambling's my thing."

He nods slowly, sniffling and taking a deep, shaky breath. "Sorry…I just don't know what I'd do if…yeah." He tries to pull away – probably to look at you – but you hold him to your chest.

"Nuh-uh," you say, kissing the top of his head again. "You're staying right here. I ain't letting you go until I absolutely have to."

You swear you hear him force out a small laugh. "I'm staining your shirt, asshole."

"I don't care." You smile softly. "It's fucking red on red; like anyone will even notice once it's dry, anyway."

"You're a fucking moron."

"I know."

He needs you right now.

And, quite frankly, you need him, too.

 _T-minus five hours and thirty-two minutes remaining._

Five hours and thirty-two minutes that you can still hold him close like everything's going to be okay.

And fuck if you won't take advantage of every second.


End file.
